a. On the one hand, it was a party, so it wouldn't be becoming to be punctual. Then no one would be there to see him arrive. On the other, it was a stakeout, a job to be done, which granted no favours to the fashionably late. On the third (he was good with his hands), it was orders from the boss, technically. That couldn't go without a little flagrant disrespect.
Unfortunately, the flicker of annoyance in Steve's eye was not there to meet Tony when he finally managed to pick his way through the foliage. Instead, he was the one pursing his lips as he searched, and his shoulders dropped slightly in resignation. He'd even missed the snacks, apparently. Listlessly, he wandered down the shore to find himself a spot to recline on a soft patch of moss, propped up on his elbows and juggling a bottle of oil in one hand like he might put on a convincing display of sunbathing should anyone ask. That was a perfectly reasonable excuse to sit staring at the water and waiting for something to happen, but mildly less effective when there wasn't a sun up there through the dome, and he was covered from neck to toes in a thin, golden film. He still wore his sunglasses like the artificial light would make him squint, letting him maintain the appearance of being very relaxed and not incredibly alert for whatever it was the Steve thought they were going to find.
b. There was no way Tony could sit doing nothing for very long. He was not built for espionage, clearly. Subterfuge, perhaps. Some mild manipulation. And people had a certain image of him, which made some games easier than others. "C'mere, what are you doing? Stop that," he instructed, like anything else being accomplished at this party was a waste of time compared to what he was about to offer. "Do you know how to play Blind Man's Bluff?"
It was a very straightforward game, he was happy to explain, already shuffling the deck of crafty cards. Highest card wins. The catch was, you could only see each other's cards, not your own--that goes straight onto the forehead. He was even generous enough to lay out what that meant, that this game was really one of deduction, and reading your opponent, so in order for that to really work, you had to be prepared to bet something worthwhile. Something risky. "So, what are you prepared to risk?" he asked, getting comfortable.
no subject
On the one hand, it was a party, so it wouldn't be becoming to be punctual. Then no one would be there to see him arrive. On the other, it was a stakeout, a job to be done, which granted no favours to the fashionably late. On the third (he was good with his hands), it was orders from the boss, technically. That couldn't go without a little flagrant disrespect.
Unfortunately, the flicker of annoyance in Steve's eye was not there to meet Tony when he finally managed to pick his way through the foliage. Instead, he was the one pursing his lips as he searched, and his shoulders dropped slightly in resignation. He'd even missed the snacks, apparently. Listlessly, he wandered down the shore to find himself a spot to recline on a soft patch of moss, propped up on his elbows and juggling a bottle of oil in one hand like he might put on a convincing display of sunbathing should anyone ask. That was a perfectly reasonable excuse to sit staring at the water and waiting for something to happen, but mildly less effective when there wasn't a sun up there through the dome, and he was covered from neck to toes in a thin, golden film. He still wore his sunglasses like the artificial light would make him squint, letting him maintain the appearance of being very relaxed and not incredibly alert for whatever it was the Steve thought they were going to find.
b.
There was no way Tony could sit doing nothing for very long. He was not built for espionage, clearly. Subterfuge, perhaps. Some mild manipulation. And people had a certain image of him, which made some games easier than others. "C'mere, what are you doing? Stop that," he instructed, like anything else being accomplished at this party was a waste of time compared to what he was about to offer. "Do you know how to play Blind Man's Bluff?"
It was a very straightforward game, he was happy to explain, already shuffling the deck of crafty cards. Highest card wins. The catch was, you could only see each other's cards, not your own--that goes straight onto the forehead. He was even generous enough to lay out what that meant, that this game was really one of deduction, and reading your opponent, so in order for that to really work, you had to be prepared to bet something worthwhile. Something risky. "So, what are you prepared to risk?" he asked, getting comfortable.